our daily bread

"You must
         Make something of yourself
                               Young man!"

Oh, must I? And what
shall I make but a thing of the divine—
an object of being?

And with what haste? 
Shall I tally my years the faster?

I can make but I surely "mustn't," 
for I have no self but the Lord. 
And I am scarce forty years—
I have made it this far in not making; 

And as for youth, 
I grow young in play
at every morning's wax.

Now tell me again, old sage,
what "must" be done
but the day's bread,
and love?